Mercy
by Rehema
Summary: The King of Thieves is known to be vicious, cold, uncaring, and such. But can that change? Can he actually be... merciful? Will he help a woman being held prisoner, or will he condemn her to a fate worse than death? And what's in it for him?
1. Mercy

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh or any affiliated materials except for my fanfics and OCs.

Odji, "the copper-haired maiden," and Rehema (in the next chapter) are my own creations.

"Odji" literally means "wicked." As you will see, it's a very fitting name.

* * *

**Mercy**

To an ordinary person, the scene would not be very welcoming.

To thieves, murderers, plunderers, and worse… it was a safe haven.

A tall, deeply-tanned, white-haired man—who, oddly enough, was younger than twenty years of age—rode confidently through the dingy, narrow streets of the small town. He ignored, for the most part, the shouts he received from various men and the interested stares from some women. He was quite used to it, thank you very much.

After all, he was well-known, respected, and _feared_ throughout the entire kingdom of Egypt. Strong, swift, clever, vicious, and merciless, he would stop at nothing to achieve his goals.

He was, after all, Thief King Bakura.

* * *

Finally, he halted in front of a small, seedy-looking tavern. An unshaven, rather sleazy-looking man wearing a wide grin appeared before him.

"Greetings, m' Lord," he rasped, bowing his head respectfully.

Bakura's trademark smirk crossed his rugged features, and he inclined his head in acknowledgement. "Odji."

"Do come in, all of you," the man invited. "I believe you'll enjoy the new items on the menu."

He wiggled his eyebrows, and beckoned him inside.

* * *

Bakura laughed in surprise as the sight of the new, barely clad female dancers met his eyes.

A couple of the women seemed to move more purposefully and gracefully as Bakura sat down, and a few others seemed to be trying to catch his eye. Two serving girls blinked and batted their eyelashes as they made their way over with his order.

Bakura stretched and relaxed, enjoying the attention. It was rare for him to be so at ease…

* * *

An hour or two later, he stood up to leave.

However, as the King of Thieves started towards the door, Odji stepped in front of him and beckoned for him to step closer.

The Thief King raised his eyebrow, but he nevertheless leaned in to listen.

"I have a proposition for you," growled the older man, eyeing the thief's many gold rings and chains greedily. Bakura quirked an eyebrow—"And what might that be?"

"One of the women for sale."

"Not interested," growled Bakura, starting to leave.

"Wait, wait!" Odji called after him—he rushed forward and planted himself in front of the thief. Bakura glared at him, and his hand slid down to the hilt of his dagger—"Get out of the way, Odji," he snarled.

A few of the other men in the tavern looked up in interest, and Odji paled visibly under the thief's icy stare. "You haven't seen her yet—a real beauty."

Bakura glanced at the dancers with disinterest. Odji shook his head—"Better than those wenches. Follow me."

Sighing, Bakura sheathed his knife and followed the shorter man. "This had better be good," he said, winding his way between the tables, serving girls, and dancers to a dark, wooden door in the corner of the dingy, smoky room.

Odji yanked the metal handle, and with a loud CREAK, the door slowly swung open. A flight of worn stone steps descended into the darkness below.

* * *

After a few minutes, Odji halted in front of another aged, wooden door. He grinned and, with some difficulty, yanked it open.

As he peered inside, the tavern-keeper's face hardened. His voice grew harsh as he barked out—"Girl! Your future master is here to see you!"

Bakura snorted—"I wouldn't assume anything, Odji," he said. "Let me have a look first."

He strode inside, and his eyebrows rose at the sight of a young woman—bound with ropes. At least, her hands were tied with thick ropes to iron pegs built into the stone wall, and her feet were spread apart and tied to poles in the cold stone floor. Her hair hung forward in gentle waves so that her face was hidden.

"Odji, you are indeed wicked," the tomb robber murmured, kneeling down and flipping the young woman's hair behind her ear.

The older man looked pleased with Bakura's newfound interest—"One of my regulars—he brought her in from a raid on a house in a nearby village. Murdered everyone in the household except her—seemed to think she'd be 'useful'"—he laughed, his belly bouncing—"for other things."

Then the tavern-keeper frowned. "But he changed his mind and let the girl remain... pure. He wanted quite a lot for her—I paid a great deal for this creature."

"Hmmm-mmm," murmured Bakura, still examining the girl. Odji grinned again. "I'll leave you two alone now…" his voice trailed off suggestively.

Before leaving, he glared down at the young lady. When he spoke, his voice was again cold, commanding, and menacing—"Don't disappoint me, woman."

* * *

Bakura roughly tilted the woman's face up, and he carefully fingered her cheeks and jaws. Narrowing his eyes, he barked a command. "Speak."

"And what shall I say, _master?_" replied the young woman, still not looking at him. Her voice was hoarse, as if she had either used it too much or not enough.

The tomb robber jerked her chin up—"Look at me when I'm talking to you, woman!" he snapped.

The young woman's skin and hair shared a warm shade of copper—her eyes were a deep, dark chocolate brown. At the moment, they were dull, empty, and lifeless holes.

He glared at her, but she now stared back at him evenly… unflinchingly. Bakura then allowed his gaze to travel downward, taking in every curve and muscle traced by her raggedy linen dress. He had to admit—she was rather beautiful.

Her mouth turned up in one corner, and her eyes narrowed. He noticed this slight change in expression and snarled, "What?"

She shook her head and closed her eyes—two fat, glistening tears abruptly appeared at the corners of her eyes. "Gods of Egypt help me. What have I done to deserve this?"

Bakura snorted derisively—"There are no gods," he retorted, his face contorting into a scowl. "They will neither hear you nor help you. This I have learned throughout the years."

"May I ask how?" she inquired quietly, her tone flat and hopeless.

"It's none of your business," he snapped at her. She shook her head—"Of course not."

He cocked his head and stared at her. She was neither scared nor rebellious—she was nothing. No emotion. She seemed to be an empty, hopeless shell—a perfect toy for him, he realized with some satisfaction. Perhaps some good would come from this encounter…

"Mercy," she suddenly muttered.

Bakura was snapped out of his thoughts. "What?"

"Mercy!" she suddenly cried, her eyes becoming wild. "Please! Take me! Just get me out of this hellish place! Anywhere but here! Please! I beg you!"

The Thief King narrowed his eyes in disgust. "Oh shut up, wench. You do realize that you've just ruined your chances of leaving with your foolish wailing?"

The maiden looked back up at him—"Forgive me," she said, drawing a shuddering breath. "It's just that... I want freedom. I want them to kill me. Every day Odji threatens to allow the men down here to…"

Here, her eyes widened, and he could almost see the raw terror in them. "Please," she begged, "take me, Thief King Bakura."

Her voice had gained composure and some fullness—it was a smooth, pleasant alto. She was no longer begging, but the note of pleading was still evident.

However, Bakura merely tossed his head in disdain. "A waste," he remarked.

Biting her lip, the young woman thought quickly. She would have to try another approach.

"And why would that be?" she asked, twisting slightly and allowing her voice to lower and soften to a purr. She sounded ridiculous to herself, but at this point, she was desperate to try almost anything.

His interest slightly renewed, the thief leaned down and reached towards her again to continue his examination.

The young woman flinched away from his touch at first, but then quickly reminded herself to remain calm. Letting her fear, anger, and disgust get the best of her would only worsen the situation…

Bakura appeared to be deep in thought—she dared not hope—

However, a few minutes later, he pulled away and snorted derisively—her heart sank. She was doomed. "Whatever," he said. "It's a waste."

* * *

Bakura flung open the door, only to be greeted by a pained cry. He raised his eyebrow at the man rubbing his nose behind the door—Odji.

"What happened to leaving us alone?" he remarked idly, proceeding to ascend the stairway. Odji looked at him hopefully—"Well?"

Bakura waved his hand—"Pretty thing. But pathetic. Teach her to shut her mouth and not to cry for mercy. You might have better luck."

Odji turned and glared into the room—the young woman looked up and met his gaze. A sharp shiver of dread ran through her—the look in his eyes promised misery and torture.

Death, she hoped. Let him be angry enough to free her from this life.

"I'll be right there, Bakura," snarled Odji.

The Thief King listened with mild interest to the cry of "You've disappointed me for the last time, wench!"

His eyebrows rose as multiple sharp, anguished cries followed this proclamation a few minutes later.

A few minutes after that, Odji came lumbering out, red-faced. Bakura resisted the temptation to look in on the young woman to see what had happened.

_

* * *

_

This is rather uncomfortable stuff to write... anyhow, please leave reviews?


	2. Conversation with the Dead

**Disclaimer:** Again, I do not own YGO.

However, I do own the character Rehema in this chapter. By the way, according to a site on Egyptian names, "Rehema" means "compassionate."

* * *

**Conversation with the Dead**

Bakura turned over and uttered a sound that was somewhere in between a sigh and a irritated growl. For some reason, he couldn't get that little wench out of his mind. Her desperate voice still rang in his ears—"_Please! Take me! Just get me out of this hellish place! Anywhere but here! Please! I beg you!"_

Her tone had sounded so hopeless afterward—so calm, cool… and dead.

He stared at the ceiling of his tent, frustrated. For Ra's sake, he was the _King _of Thieves! Others' pain meant nothing to him! Nothing! He'd stolen from both the living and the dead—and killed anyone who'd dare cross him as well. What couldn't he do? What wouldn't he do?

His eyes widened as another thought crossed his mind, and he smirked. While he'd broken almost every law he could think of, there was one line he had never crossed. One. And it was one which he would never cross, for that matter. Not out of fear or conscience—he would proudly declare that he had neither—but something else…

He would never, ever commit the horrific crime of forcing himself on a woman.

The thief snorted and turned over. He had known men who had, and he had always looked scornfully down upon them. Pathetic animals, that's what they were. They were filthy beasts that had no more control over themselves and their impulses than a common street dog. What was he thinking? Hell, even dogs exhibited more control.

His scowl turned to a smirk. Not to mention, women usually threw themselves at him. So why would he?

However, the frustration soon returned. She was still pure, unlike many of the women he had run into during his travels. By refusing to take her, he had condemned her.

Bakura mentally slapped himself—what did he care? She was just another worthless woman… that's all… she meant nothing to him...

* * *

"_Bakura? Bakura?" _

_The thief whirled around. The voice—no, it couldn't be! She was dead—killed in the bloody massacre of his home when he was a mere child. No, it couldn't be her… _

_Nevertheless, he called out the beloved name he hadn't spoken in years—"Rehema?"_

"_Bakura?" _

_His heart pounding from what felt like hope and joy for the first time in years, he turned around to face a girl of about fifteen._

_Her warm brown skin glowed slightly, and her jet black hair was pulled back into a firm, wavy ponytail. Two locks of hair, free from her ponytail, framed her face; two gold earrings dangled at her ears, and her large, dark brown eyes— _

_Her eyes, he realized with a pang, were almost exactly like those of that wom—_

_No, he told himself, don't think about her. _

"_Don't think about whom, brother darling?" Bakura raised his eyebrows at the girl's cool tone, and, with a shudder, realized that she had practically read his thoughts. _

_He decided to ignore the question. Bakura took a careful step towards the girl. "You've grown, sister." _

_She nodded and replied with a mild, "It's been ten years."_

"_Ten years since your death." As the words sank in, the impact of the loss hit him again. His hands clenched into fists, and his head bowed—"Ten years since that royal bastard took everything from me!" _

_Bakura was shaking with rage now, and he snarled, "Rehema, I will avenge our family—"_

"_That is of no concern to me now, brother." _

_Bakura looked up at her, stunned. "What?" _

"_You heard me."_

"_What are you saying?" Bakura asked, his voice dropping its usual gruff tone. _

_His younger sister fixed him with a sad gaze. "I may be imprisoned by the shadows, brother, but I have still watched you. With great sadness, might I add. Crime after crime, kill after kill." _

_For the first time in quite a while, a nagging feeling of guilt began to prick at the thief. However, he refused to cave to this long-lost emotion. His sister did not pause, and his attention shifted quickly to her again._

"_Now, my dear brother, you're about to allow the one of the most horrific crimes of all to occur to an innocent woman who even begged for your help."_

_The tomb robber stared at his younger sibling, who stared evenly back at him. When he spoke, it was not with his usual gruff voice. His tone was still slightly cool, but there was a more cajoling sound to his words. _

"_Rehema, everything I've done, I've done it for our home! For Kul Elna! You, mother, father, our grandparents, everyone was unjustly murdered by the Pharaoh and his men! Why should I let that royal fool's crime go unpunished?"_

_Rehema shook her head and frowned. "You've stolen to survive, and you've killed to achieve your goals. You aim to carry out revenge against the Pharaoh by resurrecting a force beyond any on this earth. So to punish one criminal, you commit crimes of your own?" she shot back. "Does that solve anything?"_

"_Besides," she wagged her finger, "You weren't listening, Bakura. I said that the Pharaoh is not of my concern now. My concern is that woman. That poor woman lying tied up in that filthy hellhole."_

_Bakura's mouth quirked at his innocent little sister's choice of words, but he did not comment. Instead, he arched an eyebrow, and his confident, cold tone returned. "And what of it? I was not interested in her, sister, and I have no intention of returning for her."_

_He frowned. "You always were the one with a bleeding heart—'feeling another's pain and working to soothe it,' as grandmother so proudly said. Don't be a fool, Rehema. Don't you realize how many women there are who've suffered similarly? I've learned in all my years—you're alone. No one is there to help you."_

"_You're wrong, brother." She smiled gently. "Sometimes we feel alone. But there are good people out there—finding them is the real problem. And about all those women who've suffered similar fates?"_

_Her gaze became even softer and sadder. "So? Does that make it right? It doesn't mean that you can't start somewhere. You are here to help this woman. Why won't you?"_

_Bakura snorted. "Why should I give a d*mn about her?" _

_Finally, Rehema's face hardened. Her cheerful, bouncy, and gentle demeanor, he recalled, did have quite a sharp, stubborn side to complement it. _

"_Bakura, this is going too far. You complain that there is no one out there to help—it is exactly this attitude that is the problem! There are people like you—indifferent and uncaring, and there are those who think 'oh, someone else will take care of the problem.' These outlooks are the Ra-d*mned problem! If one chooses to care---" _

_Bakura interrupted, his eyes flashing---"Well, sister, for your information, NOBODY CARES! You're alone in this world, Rehema—why don't you understand that!"_

"_You're wrong!" she snapped back furiously, her eyes becoming teary. "I know that there are people who do care—you just have to find them!"_

_Loudly, Bakura snapped, "Have I ever found one!?" _

_Rehema looked up at her brother, her large brown eyes expressionless. He stared back at her, his lip curling in triumph._

_Abruptly, she turned around. "Please, help that woman," she asked softly. _

_Bakura narrowed his eyes. "And if I don't?" he retorted._

_Rehema let out an audible sigh and ran her fingers through her hair. Her tone was cool and sharp again. "Then I am ashamed to have such a heartless fiend as a brother." _

_A sharp pang raced through the King of Thieves. _

_After a few seconds, Rehema looked pleadingly at him. "I'm sorry, brother," she apologized. "That was a cruel statement for me to make. You always did have a soft, kind heart—you can't deny that."_

_Bakura narrowed his eyes. "Things change."_

_She matched his gaze. "They don't always have to. Please, Bakura, you wouldn't even help her for my sake?" _

_This caught him off-guard—Rehema was his family, his beloved younger sister. He would have done anything for her. Bakura opened his mouth, but found he could not negate her statement. _

_As the girl faded back into the darkness, the Thief King sat down on the cold floor and held his head in his hands. _

* * *

Two piercing gray eyes snapped open—Bakura reached up to touch his face and found that it was wet with both sweat and… tears?

He hurriedly wiped himself off and got to his feet; it was still night. It appeared that he had been asleep for only a few hours—darkness greeted him as he stepped out of his tent and into the cool air of the desert.

The tomb robber glanced around at the surrounding cluster of cloth abodes—his men were still sleeping.

He, on the other hand, had business to take care of—quite literally.

Swiftly and smoothly, he mounted a large, sleek, jet-black horse and rode away into the blackness.


	3. Change of Heart

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh.

* * *

**A Change of Heart**

"Bakura—I mean—m' Lord!"

The tavern-keeper stammered in shock as Bakura roughly pushed his way through the unconscious bodies—people who had passed out from too much drink—over to himself. He looked to be in a bad mood—no one wanted to cross the thief when he was in a foul mood.

"I'm here for the girl, Odji—hand her over. I'm even willing to pay," he snarled, grabbing the tavern-keeper by the collar.

"I thought you weren't—well…" Odji fidgeted nervously. "I… uh… allowed some of the men down there to—"

"YOU WHAT!" roared the thief furiously, drawing his knife. Odji paled even more, and hurriedly added—"But that was a mere few minutes ago! If you hurry, you may still—"

The Thief King hurled the tavern-keeper to the ground and swept off.

* * *

Within one minute, the infamous thief had descended the steps into the underground hall. The sounds of drunken laughter and jeering greeted his ears, and he hastened over to the entrance to the holding cell.

He kicked open the door—"Move!" he snarled loudly.

A hush fell over the crowd inside. Every bleary eye rested in shock upon the infamous King of Thieves. Finally, after a few moments of tense silence, one male spoke.

"B-bakura!" exclaimed one man drunkenly, raising a bottle. "Join in—lookee what we got tah play with—"

He made several obscene gestures towards a still figure on the ground. Bakura's eyes widened as he took in the scene.

She was barely conscious and bleeding profusely from several cuts on her arms, legs, and face. Her clothes were mostly torn off, and she was badly bruised. Strands of her coppery hair covered her face—the rest fanned out behind her on the cold, filthy ground.

A couple of the men started to talk again, and the atmosphere relaxed slightly. The drunken man who had spoken staggered up to Bakura and poked him—"Hey, you wanna take a turn—"

In one smooth, swift motion, Bakura drew his knife and silenced the man—permanently. Another tense silence fell across the crowd—several men drew back.

"She's mine," Bakura snarled, bending down to cut the knots which bound the young woman. "Nobody touches her."

After a few moments, one male boldly stepped forward. He was about two inches taller than the Thief King himself.

"Why?" he growled, looking around at the other men for support—a few nodded and stepped forward—"Odji let us down here. We can have our way—"

"Shut up!" snapped Bakura, grabbing the man and lifting him up by his collar so that he gasped for breath. A few murmurs rippled through the room. "I said _nobody touches her_."

The three men who had encouraged the bold one stepped forward. Bakura cocked an eyebrow at them, and his trademark smirk slowly crossed his face. "A challenge, boys? Three-on-one doesn't seem very fair. Any of you idiots man enough to take me one-on-one without any help from your little friends?"

The biggest of the three stepped forward—he was large, being almost an inch taller than the thief, and heavily muscled. He ran a hand through his long, greasy, black hair before advancing. "Have at it, Bakura," rasped the man confidently, cracking his knuckles.

Bakura's confident smirk remained in place—the large man came lumbering towards him, roaring and drawing back his fist!

The King of Thieves snorted and dodged the blows, one after another, before landing one of his own squarely on the back of the man's neck!

CRACK!

The man dropped to the ground like a stone. There were a few more ripples of chatter before silence again befell the group. The other two challengers, both thinner and smaller than the first, paled visibly—Bakura looked mock expectantly at them. "Next?"

When neither answered, Bakura snorted derisively again—"Probably the wisest decision you stupid idiots have made the whole night."

He bent down again—while his back was turned, a scrawny, greasy-looking youth with thin, tangled brown locks advanced behind him, bottle in hand. The thief's eyes slid backward, but he pretended not to notice.

Suddenly, Bakura struck out—the youth went sprawling across the room and crashed into the wall beside the doorway! He lay perfectly still—the impact of his crash had knocked him unconscious.

"My, my," remarked Bakura idly as he sliced through the final knot binding the girl, "you all are feeling treacherous tonight, aren't you?"

No one dared reply.

He chuckled, but then his face became cold and harsh—"Anyone else foolish enough to challenge me, the KING of Thieves?"

Again, silence.

Bakura stood up, the copper-haired girl limp in his arms. He glanced down at the woman, and a nervous tingling spread throughout his body.

She was deathly pale—he had to get her back to camp quickly… before…

* * *

A pair of large brown eyes slowly fluttered open.

Her arms, legs, lips, and cheeks began to throb painfully, and her lips parted to allow a moan to pass. She blinked to clear her vision—finally, she was able to clearly see the slanted, two-part ceiling of a tent above her.

She attempted to move, to feel around herself. This definitely wasn't the dungeon—she was lying on a reed mat beneath a blanket. The ground was sand, not stone, and she was no longer bound with rope.

The maiden winced as the last scene she remembered before passing out flashed through her mind. Jeering, kicking, threats, the strong smell of alcohol… and all those hands… flushed faces… and …

A gasp escaped her lips, and she attempted to sit up. However, a warm, callused hand gently forced her back down.

A wave of surprise and … relief?... rippled through her as she saw the white-haired thief lying beside her on another mat.

"It's about time," he said gruffly.

She looked down at herself—her arms and legs had been bandaged! Clumsily, yes, but nevertheless, her wounds had been bandaged.

The copper-haired maiden stared back at him in surprise—"You came back," she whispered, trying to keep her emotions under control. She wanted to hug him and cry her gratitude for the world to hear, but she knew he'd react with disgust and impatience at any sign of delight or affection.

The thief narrowed his eyes and turned over. "I decided you might be of some use after all, wench," he lied.

She narrowed her eyes, but said nothing. After all, she owed him quite a bit. But after a few minutes, she spoke, trying to keep her voice calm, composed, and dignified—"Thank you, Thief King."

He didn't reply, but she had a strong feeling that he was awake. Sighing, she lay back down—however, she squeezed his shoulder very, very gently before relaxing into her first peaceful sleep in weeks...

* * *


	4. New Beginning of the End

**Disclaimer:** Yu-Gi-Oh is not mine.

Thank you so much to **Millenniumthief**, **TripleMelody**, and **The Duelist's Heiress**!

* * *

"_Hello, brother." _

"_Rehema." This time only slightly surprised, Bakura turned to face his deceased sister. _

_She smiled warmly at him. "I see you actually listened to me this time."_

_The Thief King kept his face and voice cool and impassive, but his eyes softened—he twirled the younger girl's ponytail around his finger as he replied, "Your whining was getting annoying, child."_

_Rehema chuckled. "Child?" she asked. "Interesting… I'm only two years younger than you, you know. But that aside—what do you plan to do now with her?"_

_The Thief King's eyes gleamed, and he felt a new sense of playful mischief rising within him. His little sister had always been a fun one to annoy…_

"_I'm going to have a little fun," he replied nonchalantly. Rehema's brow creased. "What do you mean?" she inquired curiously. _

"_I probably won't be conversing with you tomorrow night," was his response. _

_She didn't understand his hidden meaning--instead, the teenage girl smiled sadly. "That doesn't surprise me. You've probably wondered why I haven't talked to you like this before."_

_In fact, the thought had crossed the thief's mind briefly, but given all the excitement, he had not asked. However, he was curious about this particular detail, and he allowed himself to be sidetracked. "That wasn't what I meant, sister," he admitted, "but since you've brought it up, why haven't you?" _

_The old feeling of bitterness and anger began to resurface within him. Why hadn't she? All those years he had spent grieving over the losses of his home, family, and friends—she had left him to bear it all alone?_

"_The truth is… I don't know. Yesterday night, when I spoke to you for the first time in years, I was completely bewildered as to how I was able to meet you then and not before. I had no idea what brought me to you, and I still don't know how I am able to speak to you now. But there's one thing I do know—this is our last night together."_

_Bakura felt a lump form in his throat at the thought, but due to many years of experience, he swallowed the pain quickly and maintained a calm expression. "I see," he said, but his voice had regained its gruff quality. _

_A tense, awkward silence fell between the two. _

_Suddenly, Rehema's face took on a distant expression—the next moment, she burst into laughter! _

_Bakura stared at her as if she'd gone insane—moment by moment, pieces of his memories of his sister were returning to him. Now he recalled that she had had a rather odd personality, one which had never failed to befuddle or entertain him—however, this was beyond him! What on earth was she laughing at!?_

_Rehema sniffed and giggled, pointing at the ground—Bakura glanced at it with disinterest. It was just darkness, after all. Nothing remarkable about it. _

_Suddenly, something began to break through the darkness—a gaping hole appeared, growing wider and wider! Bakura stepped back in alarm, but it stopped growing after a few seconds—it was now about as wide as a table at one of the taverns. _

_Bakura peered into the hole—his heart nearly stopped. "That's me!"_

_Rehema shrugged, still grinning. "You can say that you're having an out-of-body experience. That's your body in the tent… with the girl you just saved, might I add," she said, a playful smirk spreading across her face. _

"_But what is so…?" Bakura glanced at the two forms in the tent and blinked in shock—the woman was now curled against his chest, her fingers clutching the fabric of his robe. He looked more closely—her face was contorted into a pained expression. _

"_So the little wench got too comfortable," he snarled, forgetting momentarily that he was with Rehema—she threw him a reproachful glance. "Bakura!" she scolded. _

"_What!" Bakura turned and found himself again face-to-face with Rehema's shocked expression. "Oh—sister." _

_She rolled her eyes. "Oh, brother." Abruptly, her eyes slid down to the scene below them, and the smirk returned to her face. "Oh, brother darling…"_

_Bakura narrowed his eyes. "Yes, sister __**dear**__?" he replied, placing a sarcastic emphasis on the last word. _

_She began to laugh—"Before getting all indignant and proud, why don't you take a closer look at yourself?"_

"_Myself—?" Bewildered, Bakura glanced at his body—and blinked in shock. His own arms were wrapped tightly and protectively around the body of the young lady!_

"_What in the name of—!" Bakura hissed as Rehema hooted with laughter in the background. _

"_Ah, my darling brother, the terrifying scourge of the desert himself—is in love! How adorable!" she squealed. _

_Bakura scowled, annoyed—suddenly, he recalled his earlier motives with his sister. Not to mention, two could play at this game. Turning to Rehema, he grinned wickedly. "This is just the beginning."_

_She stopped laughing, and her brow creased. "What?" _

_Bakura smirked—"She's sleeping now. She won't be getting __**any **__sleep tomorrow night."_

_Rehema blinked in puzzlement, but then awareness dawned on her face—immediately, her expression became exasperated. However, she looked slightly amused as well at his comments. _

"_That wouldn't happen to have a double meaning, would it now, __**brother**__?" Her voice took on a dangerous, yet playful edge at the end. _

_Bakura shrugged, but his confident, wicked grin remained in place. "Why sister," he said mockingly, feigning hurt, "how could you accuse me of such a thing?" _

_Now it was his turn to laugh—Rehema gave him a look, but she covered her mouth in an attempt to hold back a chuckle. It failed. _

_Bakura stopped laughing and raised an eyebrow at her. "Why Rehema—I thought you would disapprove of crude humor." _

_Rehema shrugged. "I do, for the most part. But it was a little funny." _

_She glanced down at the girl, and a frown crossed her face. "Oh, dear—I can't believe I didn't—look at her clothes! They've torn her apart!"_

_Bakura glanced down as well and remarked nonchalantly, "Ra, that's a lot of skin." _

"_I know! Poor thing," Rehema murmured. She looked up at Bakura. "What will you do about that?" she asked._

_Another opening—Bakura saw his chance. "Probably nothing," he said coolly. "It's a nice show." He looked at Rehema expectantly._

_His efforts did not go unrewarded—Rehema scowled at him. "Really, Bakura. Please, be serious!"_

"_I'm being quite serious, sister," he replied, deciding to push her further and gesturing at the scene below them. His eyes glinted with something more than mischief. "Look at her—"_

"_I don't wanna hear it!" Rehema said loudly, covering her ears—Bakura grinned in wicked amusement and proceeded to describe several "points of interest" while his sister continued to protest loudly!_

_Finally, Rehema slapped his arm. "All right, all right, shut up!"_

_He stopped talking and glared at her. "What did you just say to me!?" _

_She glared back, but her tone softened. "I'm sorry, Bakura—it was getting a little… okay, not a little. It was getting very, very annoying and disrespectful!" _

_Bakura snorted. "Why do you think I said it?" _

_His gaze fell back on the woman. Rehema followed his line of sight and sighed. "Are you sure you're related to me?" _

_Nevertheless, she slipped her arm around her brother's waist and squeezed him affectionately. Instinctively, he stiffened, unused to a show of true affection from another—however, he then relaxed and wrapped his other arm around his sister… his little Rehema. _

_The two siblings just stood there for a while, enjoying the feeling of hugging each other... for the last time. _

* * *

The young woman's eyes slowly cracked open. It was very early in the morning, and the sky was still dark.

Her vision cleared to reveal a wall of hard, tanned muscle before her face. Startled, the brunette jerked away—or, at least, she tried to.

"Going somewhere?" rasped a familiar voice, and an arm tightened around her waist.

"B-bakura!" she stammered in shock, blushing madly, "I-I—oh, Ra, I'm so sorry—!"

His fingers gently stroked her cheek, and his dark grey eyes met hers—however, they didn't look angry or irritated. At the moment, they were unusually gentle.

However, that changed swiftly.

The look on his face changed rapidly—a confident, almost arrogant smirk replaced his previously calm expression. "Getting rather comfortable, are we?"

She didn't reply. He took this as an invitation to continue. "Don't worry—there've been others before you. It is difficult to resist, isn't it?"

Wrong thing to say.

Her expression also changed swiftly from honest confusion and embarrassment to cool indifference. Narrowing her eyes, she retorted, "Really? Is that so? Forgive me for allowing myself to become this—" she said the word with heavy sarcasm, her voice becoming more contemptuous "—_comfortable_. But then again, I'm just another woman. I guess it isn't my fault at all, is it?"

Bakura cocked an eyebrow, but was otherwise unaffected by her tone. "I see someone is feeling better. You've become disrespectful and more irritating than you were before. Did you forget who saved who last night? I could easily take you back to be beaten and taken advantage of again."

"For your information, I am lucky enough to still be pure."

"What?" The Thief King's eyebrows rose in surprise. "You're still…? My, my, you are very lucky. But step over the line, and that can change, should I decide to take you back."

The young woman's heart pounded in terror at the thought of going back. She bowed her head for a moment, and then looked back up.

Her large, dark brown eyes seemed to melt before him—he shook his head slightly to clear his mind. She took a deep breath to calm herself down. "I wouldn't be all right if you hadn't come back," she admitted softly.

Bakura rose to his feet. He looked down at her disdainfully—"I'm glad to see that you're starting to realize how pathetic you are and how much you need me."

She frowned in slight annoyance, but reminded herself to ignore it. _Be patient, choose your battles, and remember—you owe him, _she told herself.

Suddenly, two heavy pieces of cloth hit her squarely in the face.

"Pay attention, why don't you?" Bakura sneered at her. "Put those on."

The young woman looked down at the pieces of cloth which now lay in her lap. "All right."

She stood up and quickly examined the outfit. The two pieces were both made of a coarse, dark beige fabric. One was a rather strangely designed top—it had no sleeves, but it was to be tied over one shoulder. The skirt was, thankfully, decent length—she had expected worse from the thief. It fell below her knees—however, when she unfolded it, she was rather disconcerted to see one long slit in each side of the skirt! Ra, the cuts reached all the way up to a few inches below her hip!

Her dismay at the cuts must have shown on her face, because the Thief King began to snicker. "Picky, are we? I suppose you'd like to walk around in those torn rags everyday. I assure you my men would enjoy the show."

The copper-haired girl paled, and the old anger began to boil within her again.

He gestured towards her current dress. "I assure you that 'dress' is much more revealing than what I've given you." The tomb robber's eyes gleamed, and the well-known smirk played across his lips again.

"Don't worry—I'll wear what you've given me. Thank you." She glanced at him questioningly. "May I…?"

The thief raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"I…" She felt silly asking this—it seemed like such an obvious thing to do! Why wouldn't he…?

"I'd like to change alone." Her voice was still gentle, but firm.

The infamous tomb robber stared at her for a while, his lip curling. Abruptly, he turned to leave. However, right at the entrance, he glanced back at her. "If you need help tying those knots in the skirt—" a teasing smirk spread across his face again "—I'd be only too happy to help."

She glanced at the skirt. Of course—the two flaps created by the slits could be tied together down to the middle of the thigh. Then she understood why—and scowled at him and looked pointedly at the exit.

The Thief King chuckled and swept out—he had gotten the reaction he wanted. It also took a good deal of restraint to keep himself from peeking back in just to infuriate her.

Muttering irritably, the young lady pulled on the new clothes, glancing anxiously at the entrance to the tent all the while.

_

* * *

_

Bakura can be such a... yeah, you get the point. (Dryly) Adorable, ain't he?

_Anyhow, reviews please! Don't be afraid to be honest! (But polite--flames are NOT appreciated) _


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